


move from A to B

by Muir_Wolf



Category: The Big Bang Theory (TV)
Genre: M/M, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 18:29:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5015470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muir_Wolf/pseuds/Muir_Wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheldon wakes up with amnesia.  Wil virtuously does not mess with him, but things still get confused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	move from A to B

**Author's Note:**

> This was too long for tumblr, but it was dashed off for "18. (waking up with amnesia au), Sheldon/Wil" for Lauren

Sheldon’s eyes slowly flicker open. Wil, sitting next to him on the bed, lets out a sigh of something near relief, not that’s he admitting that to anybody else.

“Sheldon?” he asks. Merely checking to see if there’s brain damage, of course. Not that one could even _tell_ in Sheldon’s case, he thinks nastily, and then immediately checks himself because that’s not exactly the smartest way to poke at the man. Besides, the man in question is lying prone on Wil’s bed. Poking can at least wait until Wil knows if he needs to call an ambulance or not.

“Where’m I?” Sheldon asks, the words a little too slurry for Wil’s tastes. And then, far more concerningly, “who ‘re you?

Has Sheldon ever _not_ been aware of who Wil is? Given the slew of fan letters, and then later the slew of haughty, snippish comments on all articles pertaining to one Wil Wheaton, Wil rather suspects not.

“It’s me,” Wil says, and then internally rolls his - uh - internal(?) eyes at himself. Last he checked, they were not the starring leads of a romcom. “It’s Wil Wheaton,” he corrects, a little sharper than he intended to, given that Sheldon’s head is doing its damnedest to bleed through the towel. Time to call the ambulance after all. He slips the phone out of his pocket with his free hand, and has just dialed those special three digits when Sheldon frowns up at him, having finally (groggily) processed his words.

“But Wil’s hot, and you’re _old,_ ” Sheldon says.

(Wil fails to answer the 911 operator for a full twenty seconds.)

 

—

 

“He’ll be fine physically,” the doctor says. “As for the amnesia, we have no way of knowing, but there’s a good chance he'll recover his memory in the next week or so. That was a nasty fall he took, what happened?”

“He fell off a ladder cleaning the roof,” Wil says. (He fell off the ladder trying to break into Wil’s house to do god-knows-what in retaliation for Wil’s latest prank, and Wil is very much focusing on how absolutely _none_ of this is his fault.)

“Well, I’m going to recommend a specialist, but in the meantime just be patient with your boyfriend. Memories with high emotion are some of the best to jog, so maybe tell him how you met?” (Wil has been, ah, somewhat flexible with the truth. They weren’t going to tell him Sheldon’s condition, and he had to have _something_ to present to Sheldon’s friends and family when he alerted them. Even though absolutely none of this is Wil’s fault. At all.)

“Yes, I’ll…I’ll do that,” Wil says. 

“You can take him home as soon as you pick up his prescription,” the doctor says, and Wil does his best to look appreciative.

 

—

 

Sheldon is looking in the mirror, his thin fingers running across his smooth chin. “This is…different,” Sheldon says when he notices Wil’s entered the room. Sheldon looks uncharacteristically uncertain. His free hand flexes next to his side, and his shoulders are tucked in slightly in a defensive manner. Wil’s never given too much thought to it, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Sheldon had been bullied as a kid. And now that kid is standing in front of him in Sheldon’s body. At least he doesn’t remember Wil’s quote-unquote betrayal. 

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll get your memory back sooner or later,” Wil says. He tries to be brusque, but it’s somewhat difficult when Sheldon keeps looking at him with his heart in his eyes.

“Okay,” Sheldon says, and he turns, tentatively, and slides his hand into Wil’s. Wil startles, pulling back, and Sheldon looks-

“Hey, it’s okay,” Wil says, catching Sheldon’s hand before he pull it back to his side. “I just didn’t realize you–”

“I heard you telling the nurse we were boyfriends,” Sheldon blurts out. A deep, deep flush curls up from his chest to his cheeks, and Wil watches it with no little fascination. He’s never seen Sheldon blush before. “I don’t know _how_ I could’ve ended up dating _Wesley Crusher,_ but–”

“Just didn’t realize you were okay with hand-holding,” Wil says, cutting Sheldon off before he can say anything more. Already he can see this isn’t something he can easily extricate himself from. Tease the hell out of Sheldon, yes, but not when the information he’s getting is from a star-struck kid who maybe sorta has a crush(?) (really?) (is that even possible?) (could _any_ version, any age of Sheldon Cooper have a _crush?_ ) on him, that’s crossing more lines than Wil is remotely comfortable with. And if Sheldon remembers any of them if - when he gets his memory back, he’s going to justifiably murder Wil. Or completely disappear, which would be a shame as Wil’s grown somewhat…fond of their bickering.

“I don’t usually like holding hands, but I just figured, if we’re dating…” Sheldon says, and then trails off, looking confused. Wil squeezes his hand.

“Hey,” he says, “dating’s all about enjoying yourself and making sure everyone involved is comfortable. If holding hands isn’t comfortable, we don’t need to.”

(If Sheldon remembers this when he gets his memory back, he’s not the only one who is going to be embarrassed, Wil thinks.)

 

—

 

Wil takes him home, partly because Sheldon straight-up says he doesn’t want to leave Wil’s side, and partly because he’s not looking forward to Penny punching him in the face when the whole story comes out. Especially the part about them dating. Wil might give Penny a free punch on that count, because he could’ve done without this awkward, shy, intriguingly curious Sheldon leaning against his side, looking up at him with utter trust, practically shouting from the rooftops _could-have-beens_ that Wil would never, ever have guessed possible. Not that he doesn’t miss the snark. He very much misses Sheldon’s snark.

Wil takes him home, and lets him put on Next Gen episodes on the television (Sheldon’s very interested in this whole DVD thing, let alone Blu-Rays), and makes him lunch (spaghetti, because that is what Wil knows how to make), and lets Sheldon talk him into taking a nap, because Sheldon’s head is aching, and the hospital had to shave a little of his hair to fully stitch the gash up, and maybe none of this is Wil’s fault, but it’s harder and harder to believe that when this Sheldon looks at Wil like he can do no wrong.

So Wil walks Sheldon to Wil’s bed, and for the second time today watches him settle on it. (The first time Wil had carried him, heart beating in his ears louder than he thought possible, and as soon as he picked him up he remembered you’re not supposed to move somebody hurt - but that’s for neck injuries, Sheldon hadn’t hurt his neck, he’d slipped off the ladder when Wil had snuck up behind him (this is his fault, he knows it) and tried to scare him, and Wil had tried to catch him, but he’d just softened his fall, had watched him crack his head on that rock, had picked him up before he thought, heart in his mouth, and taken him inside.)

“Wil,” Sheldon says, “will you stay for a bit? I don’t want to be alone somewhere I don’t remember.”

Wil nods, and lies down next to him, taking Sheldon’s hand in his before even registering that Sheldon had reached for him. _Of course he doesn’t remember this place, he thinks, he’s only ever been here this morning. He won’t remember anything here, because nothing here is familiar. I have to bring him home. When he wakes up, I’ll bring him home._

Wil’s never napped well, so he’s not too surprised when the sky outside is dark when he finally reopens his eyes.

Sheldon, hand tightened to a near death-grip on his, is watching him with narrowed, uncertain eyes, though, and that _is_ a surprise.

“Why am I on your bed, Wheaton?” he asks, his voice a growl, and Wil grins, something like relief flooding through him. A band tight across his chest finally loosens, and he hadn’t even known it was there.

“Why ruin a good thing with pointless questions?” he asks, because he’s missed this. He’s missed _them._ And perhaps he had been worried, just a little, about Sheldon.

Sheldon’s eyebrows lower further, his mouth sliding into that haughty sneer, but Wil is realizing with surprise that, painfully tight or no, Sheldon is still holding his hand. And without an emergency hanging over his head, he rather likes the look of Sheldon on his bed. And, most importantly, if Sheldon’s feeling better, it’s fine to poke at him again. Just in a nice, gentler way, as he is recovering. And perhaps it’s time to finally make amends.

Wil leans forward, their linked hands between their bodies, and Sheldon holds his ground as he always does. Doesn’t move so much as an inch as Wil’s lips land on Sheldon’s. Well, he does move just a little, but Wil’s not too surprised when Sheldon pushes into him and unsteadily tries to beat Wil at Wil’s game.

(Wil is a liar and a cheater and is thinking, for maybe the first time in his life, that as long as Sheldon is playing, this is a game that wouldn’t be so bad to lose.)


End file.
